The Plain Man and His Wife | Page 8

should approach his own
case. He should say to himself in that reasonable tone which he
employs to his friend, and which is so impressive: "Let me examine the
thing."
And now the plain man who is reading this and unwillingly fitting the
cap will irately protest: "Do you suppose I haven't examined my own
case? Do you suppose I don't understand it? I understand it thoroughly.
Who should understand it if I don't? I beg to inform you that I know
absolutely all about it."
Still the strong probability is that he has not examined it. The strong
probability is that he has just lain awake of a night and felt extremely
sorry for himself, and at the same time rather proud of his fortitude.
Which process does not amount to an examination; it amounts merely
to an indulgence. As for knowing absolutely all about it, he has not
even noticed that the habit of feeling sorry for himself and proud of his
fortitude is slowly growing on him, and tending to become his sole
form of joy--a morbid habit and a sickly joy! He is sublimely unaware
of that increasing irritability which others discuss behind his back. He
has no suspicion that he is balefully affecting the general atmosphere of
his home.
Above all, he does not know that he is losing the capacity for pleasure.

Indeed, if it were suggested that such a change was going on in him he
would be vexed and distressed. He would cry out: "Don't you make any
mistake! I could amuse myself as well as any man, if only I got the
chance!" And yet, how many tens of thousands of plain and (as it is
called) successful men have been staggered to discover, when ambition
was achieved and the daily yoke thrown off and the direct search for
immediate happiness commenced, that the relish for pleasure had faded
unnoticed away--proof enough that they had neither examined nor
understood themselves! There is no more ingenuous soul, in affairs of
supreme personal importance than your wise plain man, whom all his
friends consult for his sagacity.
Mind, I am not hereby accusing the plain man of total spiritual
blindness--any more than I would accuse him of total physical
blindness because he cannot see how he looks to others when he walks
into a room. For nobody can see all round himself, nor know absolutely
all about his own case; and he who boasts that he can is no better than a
fool, despite his wisdom; he is not even at the beginning of any really
useful wisdom. But I do accuse my plain man of deliberately shutting
his eyes, from pride and from sloth. I do say that he might know a great
deal more about his case than he actually does know, if only he would
cease from pitying and praising himself in the middle of the night, and
tackle the business of self-examination in a rational, vigorous, and
honest fashion--not in the dark, but in the sane sunlight. And I do
further say that a self-examination thus properly conducted might have
results which would stultify those outrageous remarks of his to his
wife.

III
Few people--in fact, very few people indeed--ever realize the priceless
value of the ancient counsel: "Know thyself." It seems so trite, so
ordinary. It seems so easy to acquire, this knowledge. Does not every
one possess it? Can it not be got by simply sitting down in a chair and
yielding to a mood? And yet this knowledge is just about as difficult to
acquire as a knowledge of Chinese. Certainly nine hundred and

ninety-nine people out of a thousand reach the age of sixty before
getting the rudiments of it. The majority of us die in almost complete
ignorance of it. And none may be said to master it in all its exciting
branches. Why, you can choose any of your friends--the wisest of
them--and instantly tell him something glaringly obvious about his own
character and actions--and be rewarded for your trouble by an
indignantly sincere denial! You had noticed it; all his friends had
noticed it. But he had not noticed it. Far from having noticed it, he is
convinced that it exists only in your malicious imagination. For
example, go to a friend whose sense of humour is notoriously imperfect,
and say gently to him: "Your sense of humour is imperfect, my friend,"
and see how he will receive the information! So much for the rarity of
self-knowledge.
Self-knowledge is difficult because it demands intellectual honesty. It
demands that one shall not blink the facts, that one shall not hide one's
head in the sand, and that one shall not be afraid of anything that one
may happen to see in looking round. It